Maybe later, when she was earthbound again, when there was ground solid beneath her and the stars were once again suspended above her, it would strike her how strange everything was. She never understood the fascination that seemed to surround her, when she was so plain, and she had never accomplished anything. She just existed, and things happened to her; maybe because she looked for them, maybe because she just let them. She remembers when Heartfire had asked her if she enjoyed her life, and she had been perplexed by such a question, but here, surrounded by stardust and strange moons and a dark god, she thinks she can almost understand what drove her to ask it.
She has never seen him as anything but gray, but she has seen his star-studded children. She has seen the nebula markings and the dappled constellations, she has seen the moonbeam colorings and the way they can manipulate the stars, and she had known they were his, because there was no other explanation. But when she tears her gaze away from the galaxies and stars in front of her, to look at him as it bleeds into his skin, until it drowns the gray with the nebulas and swirling stardust and all the colors that surround them, she is again reminded of who he is. There is an overpowering desire to reach out and touch him, to see if he burns like stars, but with a rapidly beating heart, she suddenly feels frozen.
But then he touches her. The spark it elicits is nothing new, she is used to the way his touch feels like electricity in her veins. But she doesn’t expect the way it rides into something else; doesn’t expect the feeling of stars crawling under her skin and spilling over the porcelain white of her like an entire galaxy saturating a blank canvas. It hitches a breath in her throat, until she is breathless and dizzy, but sparkling in a way she never has before.
“Carnage,” she whispers his name like a prayer, with reverence and trepidation reflecting in the sable of her eyes, “why did you bring me here?” She touches him, emboldened by the way they both glitter like stars and space, her lips brushing his neck and shoulder. He could break her apart, here; he could shatter her into stardust, and she wouldn’t even mind. There is a part of her — a part of her that forgets about Skellig, about Dhumin, and even Ashhal — that wants nothing more than to be his, and she would let herself be torn apart over and over for eternity if that’s what it took.
I wrote most of this while sitting at a barrel race, so, I hope it makes sense lmao